"THE MAFIA BOSS’S FIANCÉE ORDERED ME TO PUT HIS PREGNANT DAUGHTER IN A CAB BEFORE THEIR ENGAGEMENT DINNER—BUT WHEN I WALKED HER INTO THE DINING ROOM, LUCA MORETTI DROPPED HIS FORK AND WHISPERED, “YOU’RE HAVING A BABY?”

At six o'clock in the morning, the rain had turned into a thick, low-hanging mist that blanketed the industrial shipping yards on the south branch of the Chicago River. Cranes stood like rusted dinosaurs in the gray dawn, their silhouettes towering over rows of corrugated steel containers.

Inside Warehouse 14, the air smelled of engine grease, damp salt, and cold concrete.

Gianni Bellini stood in the center of the vast, open floor, surrounded by four nervous bodyguards in heavy overcoats. Gianni was sixty-two, with slicked-back silver hair, expensive Italian leather shoes, and an expression of tightly wound fury.

"Where is he?" Gianni barked, checking his gold Rolex. "He said six sharp. If he touches a hair on Vanessa's head—"

"You'll do what, Gianni?"

The voice echoed from the high steel catwalks above.

Gianni spun around as the warehouse's industrial halogen lights hummed to life with a blinding glare.

Walking out from the loading bay shadows was Luca Moretti. He walked alone, unarmed, with his hands resting casually inside the pockets of his dark overcoat. But behind him, emerging from the rows of shipping containers on all four sides, were twenty heavily armed Moretti enforcers, led by Marco. Every rifle was leveled directly at Gianni’s men.

The four Bellini bodyguards instantly reached for their holsters, but Gianni shouted, "Stand down! Stand down, you idiots!"

The guards froze, raising their hands slowly.

Luca walked until he was standing five paces from the Bellini patriarch.

"Where is my daughter, Luca?" Gianni demanded, his voice strained, trying to maintain an aura of aristocratic mob power. "You locked her in a cellar like an animal. You killed Salvi. You breached our alliance."

"Your daughter is on a private plane to Zurich," Luca said calmly.

Gianni’s eyes widened. "What?"

"She will arrive in Switzerland by midday," Luca continued, his voice devoid of pity. "Her accounts have been frozen, save for a modest living stipend deposited in a blind trust. If she ever sets foot in North America again, or attempts to contact any member of the commission, Marco’s associates in Geneva will handle her. She is alive, Gianni. Which is far more than you deserve."

"You have no authority to exile a Bellini!" Gianni snarled, taking an aggressive step forward. "The commission will hold you accountable for this! I will call an emergency summit—"

Luca reached inside his coat. Gianni’s men flinched, but Luca didn't produce a gun.

He pulled out a single, leather-bound ledger—the one Sofia had hidden beneath the floorboards thirty years ago—along with a certified copy of the federal grand jury subpoenas issued an hour prior.

He tossed the ledger at Gianni’s feet. The heavy book slapped the damp concrete with a dull thud.

Gianni stared down at the aged leather cover. The color drained from his face until he looked like a corpse standing in expensive shoes.

"You remember Sofia’s handwriting, don't you?" Luca murmured, stepping into Gianni's personal space until their coats almost brushed. "Every bribe. Every union fund you bled dry. Every kickback you stole from the Genovese, the Lucchese, and the Moretti families. It’s all there. And the originals are currently sitting on the desk of the United States Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois."

Gianni began to hyperventilate, his chest heaving beneath his tailored wool coat. "You... you went to the feds? A Moretti went to the feds?"

"I didn't go to the feds," Luca whispered cold and low. "Sofia did. Thirty years ago, she signed an affidavit to be delivered upon her daughter’s life being threatened. You sent Salvi to kick down my daughter's door. You signed your own death warrant, Gianni."

Gianni fell to his knees on the cold concrete floor, his hands trembling as he stared at the ledger. "Luca... please. We were brothers once. Our fathers—"

"Your father murdered Sofia's father," Luca cut in, his voice ringing with divine finality. "And you sent your daughter to steal the evidence from an orphan. You have thirty minutes to get to O'Hare and take the first flight out of this country before federal marshals execute fifty-two arrest warrants across your entire organization. Your assets are seized. Your territory is absorbed. The Bellini name is finished."

Luca turned his back on the broken old man and began walking toward the exit.

"Luca!" Gianni screamed from the floor, his voice breaking into a pathetic wail. "What about my honor?!"

Luca didn't stop. He didn't turn back.